


four ethers

by presidentbees



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cults, M/M, Religious Cults, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, shapeshifter oc, unresolved homoerotic tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21598747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/presidentbees/pseuds/presidentbees
Summary: “Good evening, Nemo. Forgive my brief intrusion, as I’m only stopping by for a moment.” Quirin’s voice remained gentle as he stepped into the room. Immediately, he reached out for the closest shawl and wrapped it around his frail shoulders. “May I ask how you’ve found yourself in my study?”The man — Nemo — jolted as if he’d been shocked. He swiveled, painting still in one hand as he stared at Quirin. Both his and Quirin’s expressions remained blank, empty canvases for the other to project onto.Nemo’s finger twitched, and the Horned God’s gentle face disappeared underneath a spray of red. He didn’t release the trigger. “Hey. I was wondering when you’d get here.”Quirin and Nemo belong toLunet
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character





	four ethers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lunet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunet/gifts).



Quirin knelt on the cold, chapel floor as hundreds of hands grasping at the tassels of his robe. Mere hours before, the same hands had been full of life — gesturing and motioning, dipping their cups into the large, half-full basin of elixir. They’d expressed joy as they lifted themselves up to praise the Horned God, tipping their cups back in unison underneath Quirin’s watchful eye. 

Now, all was quiet. Long trails of incense continued to drift from the burners mounted at the front of the room. The altar candles burned low, and a cold breeze wound its way around the room like a ghostly spectator. Silver moonlight filtered into the chapel, illuminating the cluster of motionless followers who surrounded Quirin. 

They’d dragged themselves to his side, still begging for his attention and praise as darkness slowly overtook them. Legs tangled in blankets, arms thrown over pillows, faces blissfully slack and devoid of earthly worries. 

Quirin hummed tunelessly to himself as he untangled long, silver threads from one of the newest follower’s curls. They had come to the chapel as a broken and yearning husk, looking for a new messiah to give them purpose, and Quirin had delivered. They were now one of twenty-two new believers who had been introduced to the healing word of the Horned God.

Their believer's head rested in Quirin’s lab, lolling slightly as Quirin pushed their bangs away from their face. They looked years younger now — the weight of their worry having been lifted off their shoulders — and a slight smile graced the corner of their blue, stained lips. 

_“Behold, you are fawns lost in dangerous lands. Let yourself be silent and unafraid, for through the wolves and winds may howl, you are protected underneath the Horned God.”_ The words came easily to Quirin as he stroked the follower’s cheek. He bowed his head, low enough that his nose almost touched their forehead. _“The curse of life no longer clings to you. The throne of paradise sits before you, and—”_

A loud snore broke the silence, reverberating through the chapel and shaking Quirin from his meditative state. Hastily, he straightened up, looking around to see if anybody had awoken. Sleepy mumbles broke out among the followers as they shifted, then quickly succumbed to the lure of sweet dreams. The follower on his lap turned, rolling off of Quirin’s leg and joining their sleeping brethren in the nest of blankets. 

The spell had been broken and the chapel was left with a stark, empty feeling. Quirin reached up, touching his throat as he resisted the urge to cough — the incense had left him in desperate need of water. 

Undoing the clasp on his robe, Quirin let the fabric fall around him — the hem still clutched in a dozen dreamer’s fists — and a chill immediately entered his body. The unfortunate reality of chapels was that while they were beautiful, they were impossible to properly heat in the winter. 

“Heated sitting cushions— now that would be a miracle,” Quirin thought to himself as he carefully stepped around the sleeping followers. _“A worthy investment to look into. Both functional and practical. So much more work could be done if I weren’t constantly needing to layer blankets.”_

The frigid tile floor seeped through Quirin’s socks as he hurried from the room, yearning for the comfort of his study. His little space heater and individual water boiler were waiting for him — he could have himself a cup of tea as he waited for the sun to rise. Maybe there was time to finish a devotional or two. 

Wrapping his arms around himself, Quirin turned the corner that lead to his study and— 

Well, that was odd. It appeared as if somebody had broken into Quirin’s study. 

The hinges had been bent inwards by the blunt force, causing the antique wood to splinter in long cracks. The lock had been absolutely decimated. The weapon — a weathered looking mallet — lay on the floor along with the remains of the shattered doorknob. 

From the other side of the door, something fell to the floor with a heavy _THUNK_ , followed by a line of prolific swearing. What luck — it appeared that Quirin had the chance to meet the perpetrator one-on-one. 

Stepping forward, Quirin pushed on the door just slightly enough to see inside. His study was in ruins. Piles of books had been kicked over, their covers now bearing shoe prints as they were walked over. The ceiling tapestries now lay in ripped heaps on the floor. “LIAR” had been scrawled over the bare walls in large, red letters. 

The heavy, chemical stink of spray paint hung in the air, stinging Quirin’s eyes as he finally found the intruder. He wore simple street clothing — a leather jacket, nondescript shirt, and jeans. His hair was a bright, bleached blond that had been shaved close to his head. 

Quirin had never seen him before and yet, there was something familiar about his movements. Standing in the doorway, Quirin watched as the man continued to demolish his study. His movements were assured, as if this was planned out beforehand. The man bent down, retrieving a painting of the Horned God that had been knocked to the floor. 

Ah, and there it was — a slight tik as the man straightened up, brushing a hand over his forehead like he was moving a section of hair away from the right side of his face. Hair which Quirin couldn’t see, but the man could still feel. 

“Good evening, Nemo. Forgive my brief intrusion, as I’m only stopping by for a moment.” Quirin’s voice remained gentle as he stepped into the room. Immediately, he reached out for the closest shawl and wrapped it around his frail shoulders. “May I ask how you’ve found yourself in my study?”

The man — Nemo — jolted as if he’d been shocked. He swiveled, painting still in one hand as he stared at Quirin. Their expressions were both blank, empty canvases for the other to project onto. 

Nemo’s finger twitched, and the Horned God’s gentle face disappeared underneath a spray of red. He didn’t release the trigger. “Hey. I was wondering when you’d get here.” 

The voice doesn’t belong to Nemo, but Quirin could still hear him. The inflection was the same. Quirin knew Nemo better than he knew himself. There was no way for him to hide from Quirin, no matter what face he took. 

Red paint gathered at the bottom of the painting, dripping from the frame and staining the carpet. Neither of them acknowledged it. 

“As common as your displays of negative emotion are, they are no less exceptional to behold. I couldn’t help but want to watch.” Qurin made his way to the desk, opening one of its many drawers. His hand hovered over several brightly colored tins before selecting one at random — Wuyi Oolong tea seemed appropriate. “You have unique ways of expressing your anger, and happiness lies in the thrill of creative effort.” 

“Does that make you mad? Do you feel anything? This was all valuable artwork—” Nemo brought his foot down, snapping the frame. “—And it’s ruined.” 

He had an air of expectancy, like he was waiting for Quirin’s calm facade to finally slip and show a glimmer of his true self peeking through. Quirin remained impassive, taking his electric kettle from its stand and pouring the hot water into two, separate teacups. Steam curled upwards, fresh herbs mingling with the tang of paint. 

“All material items are replaceable,” Quirin said, spooning lumps of sugar in his tea. “Do you take sugar? No— silly question. I know you don’t.” 

Quirin pushed the other teacup forward. Light glinted off of the dark surface. “It won’t stay warm for long. Enjoy it while it’s at its peak.” 

“I destroyed your books. You should be upset about this.” Nemo’s voice cracked with emotion. 

“Indeed, you damaged them quite badly, but the course of life is unpredictable. It’s possible that I would have ruined them myself on accident.” 

Nemo stalked up to the desk, slamming his fist into the wood hard enough that the teacups rattled in their saucers. He loomed over Quirin, face twisted into an angry sneer. “You’re fake! You’re a worthless hack! You’re like garbage that’s on its way to being thrown out. You’re gouging people for their money to fuel your sick fantasy of playing messiah, and one day, I’ll show everybody what you’re really wor—”

With more speed than his frail body seemed to possess, Quirin lashed out, grabbing Nemo’s jaw in one hand and dragging him down to look Quirin in the eye. The tip of his silver nail caps caught Nemo’s cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. Behind his blue-tinted glasses, Quirin’s eyes glittered brightly — not quite with malice, but something akin to it.

“Nemo,” he said, voice still level and calm. “It’s bold to call me a fraud when you’re speaking out of another person’s mouth. You hunger for destruction. Moderate your appetite, lest you consume yourself in the frenzy.”

Nemo seethed quietly. For a moment, he looked as if he was about to bite something back, but he closed his mouth firmly. His face began filling out — sharp cheekbones folded underneath a healthy layer of fat, and his jawline smoothed out. His hair lengthened, darkening as it fell over his forehead in a large chunk. 

The transformation happened in time that it took Quirin to blink.

A slight smile graced his lips as he looked into Nemo’s familiar face .“You may shake the world if you learn how to be patient and accept what comes.”

Twisting out of Quirin’s grasp, Nemo turned away as he combed his bangs into place. A slight tremor had invaded his hands — “I don’t have time for this,” he mumbled. 

“Late for something?” 

“I have places to be. None that you’d care about.” Nemo bent down, collecting the discarded spray paint cans and shoving them into his backpack. One of Quirin’s tomes disappeared into the threadbare bag, along with several teaspoons which had been strewn across the floor. 

Blowing on his drink, Quirin waited until Nemo was walking away before speaking again. “Oh, Nemo? May I inquire about something? A small favor?” 

He paused in the doorway, hands shoved deep into his pockets. There was a long pause, followed by a quiet — “yeah? What?” 

“Would you lock the front door your way out, please? I’d like to avoid having more visitors this morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> //horfs in stress// _it's almost the end of the year and im realizing that i've only posted a few pieces of work_ \-- big thank you to Lunet for letting me use his ocs ! ! ! Check him out over on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Aplustro) / [DA](https://www.deviantart.com/carcolh) / [Tumblr](https://dalpaengyi.tumblr.com/), or read more about his ocs over on his [Toyhou.se](https://toyhou.se/snail)
> 
> Nemo and Quirin are two ocs that I've been _dying_ to sink my fingers into, so I'm really glad that I got this opportunity to write for them. I'd love to get the chance to write for them again in the future. This fic was inspired by the song ["Four Ethers"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5a4N_lOAieA) by serpentwithfeet.


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